


Your Mama

by hollowmagic



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Amnesia, Amnesiac Soldier (Team Fortress 2), Blood and Injury, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Head Injury, Humor, I Tried, Revenge, Team Bonding, Your Mother - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29483514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollowmagic/pseuds/hollowmagic
Summary: Soldier insults Scout’s mama, so Scout decides to trip Soldier down the stairs. Consequently, Soldier loses his memory.Bad idea.
Relationships: Scout & Soldier (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this with a slight idea. Don’t know if I’ll continue it. Enjoy!

…

Uh oh.

His mind was a white space, vast and endless, a void of nothing but flatlines as two simple words shimmered in from the abyss:

_Uh oh._

The Scout has felt fear before, like any other living being. Unbearable fear. Terrible, sickening fear. Fear so heinous, it crushed him into the depths of his own delusion that he’d die. Fear so unremarkably powerful, so strong, it convinced him to turn tail at so many, _so many,_ good opportunities. A natural human emotion. Good opportunities, turned to waste.

That was what he was thinking at the time—a little less than thirty seconds ago, for that matter. Scout saw a good opportunity, no, a _perfect_ opportunity. An opportunity so sublime he would have been an idiot to pass it up!

The Soldier.

The stairs.

The Scout’s simmering hatred suddenly boiling at that exact moment in time.

Soldier’s voice was still ringing in his head. All the screaming about his flaws, his failures, all the magnificently detailed tales of the Scout’s slip-ups—all recited verbatim, chucked into his face and projected for everyone to hear. It was like a school presentation with a much too judgemental chalkie.

He said nothing in return. He wanted to disintegrate into ash on the spot. He’ll hit up Pyro next chance he gets.

Despite being incapable of viewing the man’s eyes beneath that bowl, Scout made sure to scowl, to hold that face, inclined to remain sturdy until he felt satisfied with himself—but that moment never came.

Once again, he had gotten the short end of the stick.

Nobody else received the same treatment.

Not Spy, nor Demo.

Soldier hurled all his energy onto Scout. Called him worthless. Incompetent. An incompetent, worthless, city boy.

But it wasn’t those words that set the timer on the bomb. No, no, it was what the man said after _dismissal—_

 _“Keep that up and your brazen hussy_ **_mama_ ** _will be picking you up early, shortpants! Then maybe she will think twice before popping out another sorry ass maggot like you!!”_

It was curt. A dismissible insult that usually went in one ear and out the other, but this one prejudice rang sirens, set off alarms. It even rendered the Spy giving Soldier the stink-eye. That one subtle, slanderous word oozed at Scout, tore his eardrums from the inside out, pecked his brain. He almost made the mistake (surprise, surprise) of thinking it was his imagination.

_Hussy._

_He did not._

_He did_ **_not_ ** _just say that—about his mother._

_‘Brazen hussy.’_

Thus, the seed of revenge had been planted.

The prelude to a disaster.

Then and there was when Scout decided to do something about it.

He just needed to find the right opportunity.

An impeccable opportunity.

Lo and behold—

Not even an hour later, it uncoiled, unveiled itself to him. The golden egg of opportunities was approaching Scout at a brisk pace.

Soldier was advancing toward the stairs at a speed that was almost too fast for him to garner.

Scout had just climbed those stairs, on his way up from the Infirmary. The moment he was abandoned after dismissal he spent a good half hour of his time taking out his anger on a helpless punching bag until his knuckles were bleeding, red and sore. It relieved a slight bit of tension, but Soldier’s words were incessant alarm clocks at max volume.

Those words, those dismissible, slanderous words, were what coerced the Scout to take that perfect, that once in a lifetime opportunity—

To stick his leg out.

“See ya next _fall,_ asshole.”

Unbeknownst to many, Soldier does have relatively quick reflexes.

But with Scout, it would be like competing with a cat.

The man hadn’t even batted an eye as he had drawn nearer. Maybe he had been off in his imagination. Maybe it was the helmet that concealed half, if not all, his vision. Whatever it was, he didn’t see the runner’s leg suddenly hinder his path.

So he tripped.

In the most ungraceful performance, the Soldier tripped and failed to locate the railing. He made a noise of surprise before ultimately tumbling down the steep corridor.

Scout grinned at the contact—heart speeding like a train as he watched Soldier get what he deserved, virtually in slow motion, laughing to himself in pride. His helmet even flew off his head. It was a long way down…

It ended as quickly as it started.

The thumps and grunts of Soldier’s body tumbling down the stairs ended with a bang.

Or rather—a crack.

_CRRCK._

It was louder than any explosion Scout had been victim to. Soldier knocked his cranium against the floor with eerily no reaction, flumping to the ground like a lifeless ragdoll. His helmet soon joined him, clunking against the tile, rolling in a circle like a top that lost its velocity.

“In ya face, douchebag! Next time use yah frickin’ head fo’ once an’ think twice about callin’ my Ma a slampig, ya dome-wearin’ dope!”

Soldier didn’t move. The helmet kept spinning.

Scout grinned ear-to-ear. “Whassa matta, spaz? Ya out fo’ da season? Yeah, try _both_ eyes when walkin’, dipshit, saves ya from da bench.”

Still, the Soldier made no effort to lift a finger. The helmet began to slow.

The runner stood stock still as he awaited for the answer that never came. Silence never felt more deafening. “Dude, yah ain’t gettin’ an apology from me, ‘less yah wanna tell it ta me first.”

Nothing. The Scout stared at the torpid body of Soldier from the top of the steps, grin faltering with each haunting second gone by. That sound, that— _CRRCK_ —he knew that sound. He heard it everyday. The sound of someone’s skull busy getting bashed to smithereens from Scout’s bat. He liked that sound, it was a sign of success, that he managed to do his job well, not to mention the dopamine that would surge through him.

That same sound that nurtured him like his own mother didn’t sound so comforting anymore. Time itself was on pins and needles.

“...Yo, Soldier?”

When the helmet finally came to a halt, when a puddle of crimson gradually gathered around Soldier’s head, when Scout realized just what that sound indicated, his mind was a white space, vast and endless, a void of nothing but flatlines as two simple words shimmered in from the abyss:

_Uh oh._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to continue this. Let’s just say a little devil persuaded me.

The Scout rushed down the stairs faster than a speeding bullet, leaping the rest of the way down as his adrenaline shouted orders at him at max volume. Soldier still wasn’t answering anything that Scout was saying to him, and Scout nudging him proved that he wasn’t thinking of answering any time soon. He was limp and lethargic—the exact opposite of what Scout wanted him to be right now, in fact, this wasn’t how he wanted _any_ of this to be right now.

“Soldier, ya good?” Scout asked even though he could clearly see Soldier was not feeling good whatsoever. False hope was a mysterious thing.

Scout panicked and tried finding a pulse, because Soldier would have respawned by now if he was dead, right? That puddle of blood, that meant he was still injured, right? Sure enough, he found a pulse after fumbling in the wrong areas for a few moments and confirmed that Soldier was indeed still alive after that treacherous fall. Scout didn't know what to do—somehow revive Soldier with some kind of voodoo magic like Merasmus, or call for Medic and let him handle the aftermath.

The second option sounded the most reasonable. Yeah, Medic would know what to do in this situation! Scout sighed in relief and raised his hand to give a holler, when suddenly a hypothetical devil resembling himself appeared on his left shoulder, along with a little angel on his right. Both wore ridiculous costumes complete with wings as they countered each other back and forth.

“Hold yah horses, pal,” barked the Devil Scout. “Ain’t yah gunna consider da _reapercushions_ first?”

Scout gave his devilish self an incredulous look. “…‘Reaper… cushions’...?”

“Repercussions!” Angel Scout corrected. Scout hadn’t even heard a word like that before, how did these two know what it meant?

“What are ya talkin’ about?” he asked. “Why are we talkin’ ‘bout da Grim Reaper’s couch cushions?”

“We ain’t talkin’ ‘bout dat, ya jackass, I’m tellin’ ya ya need ta consider da _consequences._ Ya call dat crazy old bozo ova ‘ere and yah gettin’ yah ass kicked more often around ‘ere. Dat bastard deserves dis, don’tcha think? ‘Specially after what ‘e said about… yah _Ma?”_

The Scout revisited damnation after that. True… the whole reason he even did that was _because_ of what Soldier said about his Ma, because no one _ever_ calls his hardworking Ma a hussy. Not on his watch. 

“Who cares if ‘e bonked ‘is head a lil’? He did much worse to ya. ‘Member dat time ‘e nearly killed ya cuz ya mocked his singin’? Bet ‘e don’t even know da lyrics to da Star Spangled Banner. ‘E deserves every bit of dis, besides, respawn’ll take care of ‘em.

“Oh, and ‘member dat time ‘e yelled at ya cuz yah were in da bathroom too long and laughed at yah excuse? Yah _remember_ da reason yah were in dere, right?”

The runner reluctantly dug up the old memory. “Because… I was constipated?”

“Ex- _actly._ Absolute bullcrap. Ya had no control ova dat. An’ now he’s mockin’ yah _Ma?_ My point stands; he deserves dis.”

Scout wasn’t sure how to feel about leaving one of his teammates to die like this, but the more and more this devil talked, the more Scout was convinced that he made the right choice to teach Soldier a roundabout lesson. It felt good to finally get the upper hand on that moron. In fact he had this coming; he went too far and now he’s paying the price! Serves him right!

Devil Scout smiled smugly at his angel counterpart, reclining in his imaginary throne. “Any objections, yah holiness?”

With one hand Angel Scout held up a finger, the other clutching a little harp that nearly shattered from his iron grip, ready to retort an argument that’ll regress the Scout back on the path of innocence. He couldn’t let that smooth-talking devil lead him astray!

“Think about da _otha_ consequences, ya dope!” He even knocked on Scout’s cranium like a door. “What if ‘e doesn’t respawn, huh? What if he’s ‘bouta wake up any second now, then what? Yah really lookin’ ta die ‘ere, right now? He ain’t dead yet, man! Dat’s what I’m sayin’. Da Doc can handle dis better than ya, pal, let’s face it.”

Human Scout replied, “What if I jus’ kill ‘em now?”

“Ooh, even better!” cheered Devil Scout.

“No, no, dat’s not what I meant! Jus’ call da Doc ova ‘ere, brotha, an’ tell ‘em what happened. Tell da truth. Worse case scenario: ya get yer ass kicked an’ an earful from da geezer, but after dat everythin’ is back ta normal!”

“Don’t mean ta burst yah bubble, pal, but gettin’ my ass kicked is what I’m tryin’ ta _avoid_ ‘ere. Ain’t ya s’pposed ta tell me how to get outta dis? What if Doc tells ‘em what happened?”

“Doctor-patient confidentiality!”

Now this was getting technical… 

“Oh come on, ya think dat old shit’s gonna hide dis crap from ‘im?!” spouted Devil Scout, stabbing his trident into Scout’s left ear. “Soldier oughta wrestle it outta ‘em! Which is why I’m tellin’ ya, leave ‘em how he is! Best case scenario: Soldier forgets it even happened! Pretend ya know jack shit and convince him ‘e had an episode! Da dude’s dumb as a rock, jus’ tell ‘em ‘e needs ta watch where he’s goin’ and yer off scott free!”

“Ya dumbass, he’d know we’d have somethin’ ta do with it! ‘E ain’t jus’ gonna let it go! ‘E heard us talk to ‘em before ‘e fell!” Even the holy peacemaker was starting to lose his temper.

“Well, well, well, look who’s talkin’, Sherlock! Dat fact contradicts yer point, don’t it?”

“It—! Uh…”

Now it was time for the angel to rethink his words. It all came full circle to Soldier finding out Scout was responsible for him tumbling down the stairs. No matter how many times he thought about them, every available choice crashed into a dead end. Soldier was bound to find out one way or the other. It didn’t matter in the end; it’d be all for naught.

If all roads lead to Rome, then this road is leading the Scout straight to an ass kicking.

At that point the contradictory Scouts were screeching at each other to the point where Devil Scout actually ventured to the other shoulder to give the holy bastard a piece of his mind. A directionless brawl that would prove nothing, though it seemed a bit more on the personal side of things. Scout didn’t know what to do, and not just because both his influencers couldn’t give a shit anymore, but because he realized he made a grave mistake. There at his side in a bloody heap was the result of a terrible decision brought on by his terrible choices. Even with the encouragement of pinning the blame on Soldier, since he caused this in the first place, Scout realized that there wasn’t any easy way to wriggle out of this.

He had to face facts.

“Guys,” he said solemnly to the two, despite their nonexistent attention, “I… think I’m jus’ gonna tell Doc what happened.”

“What?!”

That garnered them. Devil Scout looked at him in shock.

“Da hell are ya sayin’?!”

“I know, I know, I heard what ya said, man. But it ain’t gonna matta. I’ll jus’ explain why I did it, get my ass kicked or whateva, apologize, an’ carry on like usual. Better than bein’ called a liar.”

“But ‘e deserves dis, doesn’t ‘e?”

“He does, but not like dis.”

“Yah right,” chimed the beaten angel. “Dere are otha ways to get back at da jackass. Like stealin’ his health kits!”

Scout laughed at that. It seemed Devil Scout didn’t have any more objections at the ready, failing to utter out a smartass retort every time he started to speak. It wasn’t right to lie in a situation like this. The Scout would rather get beaten to a pulp than be called a liar, or be compared to the Spy. _Anything_ but that.

With everything out of the way, with a determined look, Scout took a deep breath and raised his hand, ready to holler out the familiar phrase that sent Medic into hysterics when said one too many times:

“M—!”

“Ugh…”

_…!!!_

The Scout’s words came to a screeching halt. A groan emitted from his side, and as he twisted his head to Soldier, who was currently groaning in pain and rubbing his bloody cranium, Scout’s blood ran stone cold. It felt like he’d suddenly been teleported to Snowycoast.

Soldier—wasn’t dead.

He was just knocked unconscious.

All three Scouts’ jaws fell open. The two influencers glanced at their host before the Devil announced, “Yer on yah own, pal,” and both of them vanished in a little pink cloud with a _poof!_

_Wait wait wait no come back!!_

He’d been abandoned by his own conscience.

Scout couldn’t tell if this must be that _reaper cushion_ thing those two were talking about, or if his day of reckoning had finally arrived. Actually he’s more _impressed_ than horrified right now—the floor has an entire _coat_ of scarlet, just how in the hell is this guy even alive?! As much as he’d love to ask, Soldier’s regaining orientation really damn quick.

Run, he can still run, and not have to face whatever hellscape Soldier’s got in store for him for this. It sounded enticing, but got shut down in an instant when Scout realized it wasn’t worth delaying the inevitable.

The Soldier gradually fluttered his eyes open and closed like he couldn’t tell if he was standing up or not, and eventually sat up holding his bloody head in his palms. He almost fell back down thanks to his apparent vertigo. Meanwhile the runner was too terrified to move, so he settled for a phrase that didn’t conceal his discomfort whatsoever.

“Heyyy, uh, buddy… ya… ya feelin’ better?”

Soldier looked up at the sound of Scout’s voice, and _holy shit that looked like it hurt_ —gave the kid an ambiguous stare. As if… he’d never seen him before.

Scout clenched his eyes shut.

Here it comes.

Pain without end.

But what came out of Soldier’s mouth was the last thing Scout ever expected to hear:

“Who are you?”

…

…

It was hard to describe his emotions then. Words didn’t sound like words anymore. What did he just say?

“What the hell happened?” Soldier asked as he finally took note of the amount of blood on the floor. He genuinely looked disturbed.

And without missing a beat, the Scout answered, “Ya fell down da stairs.”

“I did?”

“Yeah… ya… feelin’ okay?”

The man shrugged. “I have a headache, but… is this my blood?”

“I guess so.”

“Holy shit, am I okay? Wait, who am I?”

Huh.

There might be a way out of this after all.

Good riddance, too; it's way too early for character development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoho, the plot thickens.


End file.
